


The One I Really Want

by tenscupcake



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 21:52:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4279242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenscupcake/pseuds/tenscupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor confesses a recurring nightmare to Rose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One I Really Want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Adams1422](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adams1422/gifts).



> This is inspired by something Billie may or may not have said at Montreal con about Rose ditching Tentoo. My bae Amber was very upset and really needed some cheering up, so I hope this helps her, and anyone else who was offended by even the idea of her saying this (i'm still not convinced tbh, I want a video). I hope this can help you a little bit! Unashamedly fluffy, though it starts out rough. I won't mess with you guys right now!

The Doctor fidgets a little with his bowtie in the floor mirror, pulling the ends then loosening it again at the collar in a vicious cycle. He’s never like wearing these unlucky tuxedos, but Rose changed all that the first night they came home from a Vitex event and she thanked him gratuitously for dressing up for her. With her mouth. He shivers pleasantly at the memory even now, though that was weeks ago now, and shakes his head to will away a stiffie before it can make them late. He’s much less hesitant to go anywhere ‘black tie’ now that he’ll always have Rose to save him from any misfortune that may arise. Still, the bowties always rub his neck the wrong way. They just feel tighter than the regular ties he likes.

“Doctor!” Rose calls from somewhere outside their bedroom.

“Sorry, love, I’m nearly done!” he calls back, remembering how frustrated she was the last time they planned a proper date and he made them miss the play by fussing a minute too long with his hair.

“’S all right, I forgot my shoes, can you fetch ‘em!?”

“Yeah,” he acknowledges quickly, giving up on fiddling with the tie. He looks down and finds he’s still barefoot, too, so the closet should probably be the next place on his list, anyway.

A strong sense of déjà vu hits him as he plods towards the open door of the closet, like they’ve had this exact half-shouted conversation across the flat before, plush carpet tickling his clammy, nervous bare feet and all. But he shrugs it off, guessing it’s not the first time they’ve both forgotten their footwear until the last minute.

“You want the purple ones, right?” he yells absently as he flips the light switch in their sizeable walk-in closet, scanning around his half for which color Chucks he wants for the evening.

“Rose?” he calls again on getting no response, but fishes a pair of socks from the wardrobe and crumples cross-legged to the floor as he waits, pulling on the socks and lacing up the black and white trainers.

“Rose, darling!” He swivels around on his bum, searching for the pair of heels he thought she’d mentioned she wanted to wear tonight, before work that morning. He spots them next to the red ones he really fancies, a modest, deep purple set of medium high heels that match very well with the sparkling, low-cut purple dress she’s got on. He decides to end the shouting and scoops them up with a couple fingers, but just as he’s about to hop to his feet the door to the closet slams closed.

He hears the distinctive whir of the sonic screwdriver and a tiny ‘click’ as the lock of the door engages from the outside.

“Rose!?” It can’t be her. Has someone broken into their flat!? His hand plunges into his coat, and coming up empty, both arms dig deep into his trouser pockets in search of the sonic that he never dresses without.

“Rose, is that you!?” His voice climbs an octave higher in anxiety. Futilely, he tries jiggling the handle, to no avail.

“I’m sorry,” Rose whispers calmly through the door.

“Rose, what’s going on!?” he pants, trying not to completely lose control yet. Why does this door even lock from the outside?

“I’ve got to go back. I’ve got to find him.” She sounds sympathetic but decided.

“Go back where? Find who!?” His chest is heaving so fast he’s getting lightheaded, a bit dizzy just from shouting.

“The Doctor,” she says simply, wistful longing painfully evident in her voice.

“Rose, I _am_ the Doctor,” he grits out, wondering what Rose has just accidentally drunk to make her this barmy.

“Not you.” Suddenly he understands. “The proper Doctor. I thought I could… make it work with you. But I can’t. I’ve got to go. I’m sorry. He’s the one I really want. An’ I can’t have you followin’ me.” His single heart completely shatters. She sniffles and he thinks he hears the sound of her wiping her cheek with her arm.

“Rose, please,” he begs, as hot tears spill over from his eyes uncontrollably. “Don’t do this.” He slams his wiry frame into the door, a stupid, impulsive move that leaves his shoulder and hip throbbing sharply and the door completely unmoved.

A horrendous creaking of old wood and carpet fraying and tearing begin to muffle the sound of his piteous cries. She’s moving the bookcase in front of the door.

“Rose,” he sobs. “Don’t go. Please, I can be more like him. I’ll do anything you want. Maybe I can get another heart. We can go on another trip. Anywhere you want. I promise, just…” his argument dissolves when he gets nothing from the woman behind the door and the bookcase, falling to his knees as the tears fall even faster.

“Please,” he croaks out. “I love you so much.” His voice cracks on the ‘l’ word, as luck would have it.

Every bloody fear he’s had since being born in this body is coming to fruition, manifesting before his ears. The love of his eleven lives is leaving him for what she thinks is a better version of him. He always worried she felt like she was settling, getting second best, the bum end of the deal, but she always denied it when he asked. But all his fears have been ringing true in her heart all along… she’s just been making preparations… waiting for the right moment to leave him and find his fully Time Lord counterpart. His chest hurts like his ribs are being pulled apart and his vision is tunneling and he really, really can’t breathe.

“Goodbye, Doctor.” Her voice is already distant. In the hall already.

“Rose!” he pleads, punching the door with both fists with renewed desperation. “ROOOSE!” he screams at the top of his lungs, the force of it scratching his throat.

\---

The Doctor jolts upright, knocking a hand from his arm in the process, gasping for air, salty droplets still rolling fresh and warm down his cheeks. He brings a hand up to wipe them off his face, taking a few deep, stuttering breaths to calm the tears. Sweat drips from his hands and forehead and down his back very unpleasantly, so he throws off the blanket from around his hips, unconcerned that he’s completely naked.

He’s had the same nightmare every night since he was born.

Rose throws off the blanket, too, and gets to her knees, cuddling up next to him and throwing her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his temple, apparently not caring about the hot dampness of sweat. With her arms around him, he can suddenly breathe normally again, and relishes in the easiness of it, air flowing in and out of his lungs like an asthmatic with a new inhaler.

He wraps his hands around her arm on his neck, squeezing harder than he should because he’s so thankful she’s still here, that he’s not locked in a closet and she’s not taking away these arms forever. His racing heart slowly returns to normal as his tensed muscles relax under the soothing strokes of her hands and the wandering kisses on his neck.

“’nother nightmare?” she breathes after a few minutes.

He nods, and she kisses his cheek tenderly. “The same one, really. Every night.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.” He shakes his head resolutely. They’re just dreams, he knows that. But there’s a part of him that’s terrified if he confesses the contents of the recurring dream, Rose will admit she misses the other Doctor. That she’d rather be with him. Even if she doesn’t abandon him, his heart can’t handle the nightmare of being inadequate realized by Rose herself.

“Doctor, ‘s three nights in a row you’ve woken us both up screamin’ now. Jus’ tell me.” Far more than three nights. She used to be able to sleep through it, though, when he startled himself awake screaming. It’s only recently she’s had to deal with the consequences of his haunted subconscious, too. Either he’s gotten louder, or she’s become more attuned to him.

“C’mon, lie down.” She guides him to lie back against his pillow, and he sighs at the relief it brings. “I’ll be back in a mo’.” She grabs her phone and the empty glass from her nightstand, using the screen as a torch as she runs to the loo. He can’t see but only hear her fill the glass with water from the tap, and she’s back on the bed before ten seconds have passed. He gets up on one elbow as he takes the glass, gulping down the contents greedily before handing it back to her. She returns it to the nightstand as he collapses back onto the pillow.

“Tell me about it.” She presses a cool, damp cloth against his forehead and his eyes close with a small whimper. He hadn’t noticed she brought the towel from the loo.

“We’re getting ready to go out. Y’know, like, on a proper date,” he begins as Rose wipes away the sweat from his brow, pushing back his hair as she draws a semicircle around his eyes.

“And you tell me you forgot your shoes, and ask me to go in the closet and get them.”

“Sounds like me.” She chuckles a little, but he doesn’t return the morsel of joy.

“But once I’m in the closet, you lock me inside with my screwdriver. I know it doesn’t make sense, and our closet doesn’t even lock, but in the dream it seems real.”

“I know, Doctor, I understand,” Rose soothes, setting the towel down and running her fingers through his hair in calming circles. “’S how dreams work.”

“I start to think maybe someone’s broken into the flat. That they’ve kidnapped you. But then you talk to me.” His throat starts to close up and hot moisture wells up in his eyes again. “You say – ” He chokes.

“’s all right.”

“You say you’re going to find the other Doctor. The ‘proper’ Doctor.” He spits out the word with disgust. “That he’s the one you really want.” Reliving the dream, a couple of tears spill over and he tenses in anticipation of Rose’s reaction. “And I – I try to stop you but – you won’t listen. You – just leave.” He can hardly get out the sentence without gasping for breath as he fights back another onslaught of tears.

“Doctor, look at me,” Rose commands. He lolls his head to the side to find her gazing at him intently, her face mostly in shadow as only dim moonlight filters through their window, her eyes very dark. Her hand grabs his cheek fiercely, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

“I’m _never_ gonna leave you.”

He closes his eyes, nodding infinitesimally.

“Doctor,” she repeats his name, making his eyes flutter open again. “I promise you. _Never_.” Her tone leaves no room for question.

“Even if you could get back to him? The proper Doctor?” He uses the term from his dream again, though it doesn’t fail to make him shudder, testing her.

“He’s not the ‘proper’ Doctor.” She says the word with as much revulsion as he does. “Not to me. _You_ are. Because you stayed with me. You’re here with me.” She pokes him lightly on the chest.

He sniffles a bit but breaks into a tiny grin. “Really?”

“Of course you are. The other Doctor, he left me, he’s gone. And I’m not goin’ after him. I’ve got you.”

“But he’s the one you fought all those years to get back to.” He so, so wants to believe what she’s saying, but the sickening terror of the dream is still lingering in his gut.

“But you’re him, too. My Doctor became two blokes. I didn’t know what was gonna happen, when I first saw you. But Doctor, I never would have left you on your own, even if we were all three of us back in our universe. An’ especially not now. Look, I used to love ‘im. I still care about ‘im, and I hope he’s happy, somewhere out there.” He does, too, if he’s completely honest with himself. And he’s glad Rose isn’t holding back how she really feels. “But _the one I really want is you._ ” She emphasizes each syllable of her last sentence, making sure he realizes what she’s doing, and boops him on the nose with her index finger. He giggles like he’s seen her little brother Tony do a few times.

“You don’t wish I was a hundred percent Time Lord, sometimes?” He tries not to smile through the question but it’s impossible not to.

“Nope.” she shakes her head, smiling too. “You’re perfect _just_ the way you are.”

“I love you.” The words burst from behind the dam of emotions he’s been blocking up. “So much.” He reaches a hand up to touch her face, brushing hair away from her face and stroking her cheek with his thumb.

She leans down and kisses him, hard, hands on his jaw, pressing him into the pillow and rolling her body on top of his. He returns the kiss eagerly, and acutely realizes that Rose still isn’t wearing any clothes either. Half-moaning, half-chuckling into her mouth, his hands roam down to her bare bum and squeeze, just a little.

She pries their mouths apart with a satisfying, sloppy sound.

“Love you, too,” she breathes, her smile lighting up the dark blue and gray tones of the room.

He never has that nightmare again.


End file.
